crashing waves (finnick odair)

Chapter 2: The Last Reaping

Celeste's P.O.V

I try to ignore the strange assortment of curious looks, blatant glares, and obnoxiously loud whispers as I part from Finnick after approaching the check-in table. The Peacekeeper seems bored as he glances up at me. I mumble my name, and he checks his list.

"Hand," he demands, and I wince as I hold it out. He presses his needle gun to it, and I flinch as my finger is pricked. He smears my blood on his glass pad, and it flashes green as my identity is confirmed. "To the left, front section."

I nod stiffly, and I make my way into the Town Square. It is roped off into two distinct halves, one for girls and one for boys. Then, each half is divided into seven rowed sections, each one meant for an age group between twelve and eighteen. Since I'm eighteen, I'm in the row closest to the wooden stage. I notice the few victors who have bothered to show up are lined up on the stage, and I feel Finnick's eyes watching me.

I cannot look at him.

"Cel, there you are! Oh my god, you have to tell me all about your little chat with Finnick Odair!" Veronica all but squeals as I find her and go to her side. I sigh and shake my head.

"No, please stop," I plead. "It really wasn't anything, okay? He's Adrian's friend. He was just asking about me, making sure I'm alright."

She scoffs. "Mhm, sure. That's why he's staring at you."

I sigh. "Veronica, seriously. I don't want to talk about it."

She gives me a look, but she finally decides to drop it. For now. I doubt she'll let it go for long.

"Well, anyway, I think Reyna's making a special dinner tonight," she says, changing the subject. She rocks forward on her toes, a nervous habit of hers despite her attempt to keep her tone casual. "She made these special cookies, she got a fresh loaf of bread, and she even bought a few crabs! And I think she got her hands on a bottle of raspberry wine, too. A special treat, you know?"

My mouth is practically watering at all of the food. We always have enough to eat; we've never gone hungry. But we never eat like this, my god.

"It sounds amazing," I admit, my stomach almost growling. "Is it to celebrate this being our last Reaping?"

Veronica nods eagerly. "Yes, I think so! She's been saving up for a month and a half! Isn't that great?"

I'm about to reply, when suddenly, the crowd falls silent. The district escort- a woman by the name of Yelena- struts onto the stage in her massive heels that click with every step. Her dress in covered in little crystals that glimmer in the sunlight. The nausea rises back to the surface of my stomach.

Something is wrong.

"Hey," Veronica says, patting my hand, "it's going to be alright."

I'm shaking. The last time I stood in this crowd, I was watching Adrian's death.

"It's going to be alright," I repeat, mumbling.

"What a beautiful day in lovely District 4!" Yelena says excitedly. "I always love coming back here. Such gorgeous sunshine! And you always give us such lovely tributes too. I bet this year's will be as wonderful as ever! Shall we begin?"

I am in a daze as the mayor reads out the Treaty of Treason. Our victors are spoken of, their Games listed off and their accolades bragged about. What's the point? We are born to die. Their survival is nothing to be proud of. I would not be proud of winning the Hunger Games.

Finnick's smile is broad, but I can read him easily. It is as false as the mayor's fool's gold jewelry. It bears some decency on Finnick's part.

I feel lightheaded when Yelena decides it is time to begin the actual Reaping. She steps forward from her spot on the sideline, where she had waited as the mayor did his annual readings. The two trade positions, and she seems positively delighted as she looks over one of the glass bowls full of names.